her bag and pulls out a smaller pouch, unzipping it. “Let me see your hand.”
I blink down at them—my hands—and flex them into fists. “What?”
Instead of answering, she reaches out, only hesitating for the span of a breath before taking my hand in hers. “It might sting.”
It takes a moment for my brain to catch up, and it’s not really because of the anger. Amazingly, that’s mostly gone now. But she’s holding my hand in hers, resting it carefully on her bare knee, palm-down, fingertips gently grazing my knuckles. It’s hard to spare a brain cell for anything that isn’t the feel of her skin against mine.
I do eventually realize that the pouch has tissues, wipes, and bandages. “What are you, like a girl scout or something?”
Although I try to pretend like I’m not, I watch Sugar closely. I’m not stupid. The way Sugar acts, all of her scars, the fact that she carries bandages on her alongside the knife—these all point to something a lot worse than getting decked by some rando at a shitty river party. Whatever happened to her wasn’t some one-off. It wasn’t temporary.
The corner of her mouth quirks. “Something like that.”
The feel of the alcohol wipe passing over the wound does sting. I couldn’t fucking care less, though. “You should do that more.”
Her gaze jumps up to mine, then back down to my hand. “Get accosted in the hallway by douchebags? I’d rather not.”
I shake my head. “Smile, I mean.”
Her brows pull together in a scowl, but I know it’s halfhearted. Her cheeks start to pinken. “Say something worth smiling about and maybe I will.”
I smirk at her. “I’ll take that as a challenge.”
“You would.” She cleans the blood from my hand and then purses her lips as she inspects the raw, angry-red wound. “You pick scabs, don’t you? That’s how shit gets infected.”
I shrug. “Bad habit.”
Her fingers are careful but firm as she handles my hand, applying some kind of greasy ointment before peeling the crinkly backing from a flesh-colored band aid.
The cats must hear the crinkle because Hades come trotting out of tree line, nose twitching, and Lucy isn’t far behind.
Sugar notices as she’s pressing the bandage to my skin. “I have some treats in my bag if you want to fish them out.”
I watch her skeptically. If there’s one thing my mother’s taught me over the course of life, it’s to never go into a woman’s bag. But I guess this—like the way she’s touching me—is something special. Something only I’m privy to.
I use my free hand to gingerly pluck the sides of the bag open, peering at the contents. The treats aren’t hard to find. “So… you’re okay, right?”
She gives me a confused look. “Uh, yeah? You’re the one bleeding all over the place here.”
Hades circles around us and I throw him a treat. “But that guy grabbed you.”
Her face shutters a bit, but she just shrugs. “Yeah.”
“It scared you.”
“Not really,” she says, finishing up with my knuckle. She doesn’t push my hand from her leg, and I don’t pull it away. “Not in the way you’re thinking, at least.”
I watch her carefully, wondering, “What do you mean?”
“It’s hard to explain.” She takes the bag of treats from me, tossing some toward Lucy. Her eyes are tight around the edges. “I don’t think people are out to get me or anything. It’s not about that. I’d feel the same if it’d been Georgia grabbing me, and I know she wouldn’t hurt me. It’s not because I’m afraid of her. I’m not… I’m not a coward.”
I let my thumb sweep gently over her bare knee. “I know.”
She rises to her feet suddenly, eyes shifting to the side. “We’ll be late if we don’t hurry. That Dr. Ross really is no joke about tardies.”
I rise slower, bending to grab our bags from the ground. “I mean what I said. I won’t let anyone touch you. Not unless you want it.”
She ducks her head but nods, voice sounding rusty when she replies, “Yeah. Thanks.”
“Can I?” I ask, stepping closer. “Can I touch you?”
I can see her throat shift with a swallow. “You can touch my hair,” she says, and it comes out quiet, tinted with something like embarrassment. I do it, though. I reach out and card my fingers through her hair, sweeping it away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. When her eyes meet mine, they’re heavy. “You can kiss me.”